As the troubled times knock on our doors
Armageddon blowing on war horns
Heralds bring alarming forecasts
Claiming themselves holy prophets

Temple merchants are wreaking woe
Setting troops against imaginary foes
Their herd battling windmills
Acting according their masters’ wills

Then inside the towers
Resting in the darkest hours
Feasting on their tomes
Glazing the ivory domes

At the feet of the tower, the crawling poor
Struggling every day to live another more
Won’t you sages descend from your chairs
And help us win this cruel warfare?

It’s so easy for them having dreams and hope
Surrounded by books and telescopes
A knowledge sold at high prices
As the common majority demises

Then, inside the towers
Resting in the darkest hours
Feasting on their tomes
Glazing the ivory domes